


Forgotten

by AmberBrown



Series: Earning Their Keep [34]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memories, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-06 22:19:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18397487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberBrown/pseuds/AmberBrown
Summary: ‘He should have been back by now,’ said Treville as he glared at the garrison gate.Athos had been watching the increasingly angry Captain as he paced up and down. Treville had asked who Aramis had gone on his mission with. When Athos and Porthos had looked at him blankly, Treville had sighed before explaining that Aramis had been sent on what should have been a simple mission first thing that morning. Treville had expected his Musketeer to take one of his friends to give them a chance to get out of whatever duty they had been assigned.‘Why didn’t he take someone?’ asked Porthos, Athos knew he did not expect an answer.‘Because he’s an idiot,’ said Treville as he continued to scowl at the gate.-When Aramis gets hurt on a mission his lover and friends have to pick up the missing pieces...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started off based on a comment made by Lady_Neve nearly a year ago on a previous story. But it’s taken on a life of its own, sorry Lady_Neve...but Aramis does get hurt, which was part of your suggestion (!). Maybe I’ll have another shot at your actual suggestion in a future story.
> 
> It will probably help to have read some of the other stories in my series as a lot are mentioned in this. But if not...Aramis and d’Artagnan are in an established relationship and are both recovering, psychologically, from a recent traumatic event, as told in ‘Touch’. 
> 
> I will pop the chapters up daily.

Aramis thought back to the brief conversation he had with Treville when he was given the details of his mission. The Captain had told him to take another man with him to act as a lookout. There was no stipulation on who Aramis should take, acting as lookout could have been done by a cadet as easily as a commissioned man. The simple task would not require much effort. Aramis was to slip into the nobles carriage when he stopped to visit a memorial to his father. The lookout would let Aramis know when the noble was on his way back if he had not been able to find the papers in the carriage. The lookout would also distract the carriage driver if he stayed with the carriage and did not go with his master to the memorial. 

Aramis had decided that a second man was not necessary, he did not need a lookout when he quietly opened the carriage door and looked around for the papers in the carriage. The carriage driver would not notice Aramis if he approached from the rear. 

Aramis had ignored Treville order to take someone with him. 

Aramis deeply regretted that choice.

He slumped to the ground. The two men holding him had let him go after it was obvious he was unable to stand without support any longer. As he crashed to his knees the men wasted no time before they started to kick him. He wondered how long they would continue to beat him until they asked their question again. A brief respite would be welcome, even though he knew he could not answer the men’s question to their satisfaction. 

It had gone well to start with. The carriage had stopped at the point he expected it to, the noble had climbed down and waddled towards the memorial. The rotund middle-aged man had walked slowly, his unsteady steps meaning he would take a few minutes to cover the distance to the memorial. Aramis, who was hidden behind low branches on the opposite side of the road, waited until the noble was starting to make his way up the slight slope towards the marble monument. 

The memorial had been placed in a prominent area making use of a slight natural rise in the landscape. Time had seen the once dominating monument hidden on one side by a small thicket of quick growing trees. The trees had provided the perfect cover for the Musketeer. 

Aramis waited for the carriage driver to settle himself, watching his master make the short journey to pay his respects to his father. The noble might have been loyal to his family, but he was not loyal to France. Treville had told Aramis that the man had been stealing and cheating the French people out of money for many years. The paperwork he always carried with him would help to convict him. The Musketeers had been ordered, by the King, to retrieve the paperwork so that the nobleman’s arrest could be secured without the risk of him destroying the evidence. 

With the carriage driver looking the other way Aramis approached the carriage. He reached up for the door and eased it open. The door on the expensive and well-kept carriage did not stick or creek, it opened smoothly. He knew he could not climb into the carriage, the driver would notice as the carriage shifted, so he leaned in as far as he could. The noble had left his papers in a leather satchel laying on the seat of the carriage. Aramis leaned in and grabbed the bag, pulling it closer to him.

After a quick glance in the direction of the memorial, Aramis unbuckled the bag and slipped the incriminating papers out, he tucked them into his doublet and buckled the satchel before sliding it back across the seat to the same position it had been in. The longer the noble went without realising he had been the victim of a theft the better. Quietly Aramis closed the carriage door. 

At that moment Aramis felt rather smug, he had completed the mission on his own, there had been no need for a lookout. When he turned away from the carriage and was confronted by three burly men he realised how wrong he had been. 

How he had not seen the three men, who were obviously in the pay of the noble, Aramis did not know. He had glanced up and down the road before approaching the carriage. There had been no one else in sight. The men had appeared from seemingly nowhere. 

The men were all tall, one was taller than him, and the other two were nearly as tall. Two of them looked like the could give Porthos a run for his money in a fist fight. Aramis was not looking forward to the fight he knew he was about to have as he grabbed his gun and levelled it. 

The shot took out one of the bigger men, Aramis sent up a silent prayer of thanks and remorse as the burly man dropped to the ground like a heavy sack. He quickly flipped the gun and swung it at the second man, the slightest of the three. The man grunted as the butt of the gun connected with his face. The third man was quick, quicker than Aramis would have believed. Aramis yelped in pain as his wrist was grabbed and squeezed hard. The Musketeer twisted slightly and managed to pull his sword, slicing the blade across the man’s stomach. Leather and a second thick layer of clothing underneath, meant the sword stroke had no effect on the man. 

A swift kick to his knee had Aramis lose his balance. The man he had hit with his gun grabbed Aramis firmly before he could hit the ground. Thinking fast Aramis twisted his sword and punched out at the man with the pommel. The effect was instant. The man let him go and staggered back. Aramis stumbled away as quickly as his injured knee would allow. 

Getting away from the men was the priority. Aramis ran, the pain in his knee leaving him grimacing with each step, towards his horse, hidden on the other side of the thicket of trees. As he ran he pulled the papers from his doublet and glanced behind him. Aramis knew he only had a couple of seconds to achieve what he needed. One of the trees in the thicket had exposed roots, as he passed it he slipped the papers under the root, pushing them far enough into the loose earth to hide them from a casual glance. 

Shouting behind him told Aramis that his time was up, he had been found again. He stopped running and turned back, his sword raised. The two surviving attackers and the carriage driver were fast approaching. There was no sign of the noble, Aramis guessed the man was unaware of what was happening. Aramis hoped it stayed that way. 

‘Give us the papers and we’ll go easy,’ said the man he had hit with his gun, a bruise already forming on the man’s cheek. 

‘I didn’t find the papers,’ said Aramis evenly.

The three men glanced at each other before advancing. Aramis swung his sword at the three who kept just out of reach as they split up. The carriage driver remained in front of him while the other two moved around Aramis forcing him to step back further until he found himself with his back against a tree. Stepping forward he thrust his sword towards the carriage driver who jumped out of the way. The man on his right stepped in and kicked Aramis, catching him on the thigh. Despite his best effort Aramis stumbled to the side and was grabbed by the other big man who twisted him around and pinned his arms to his side as the carriage driver stepped in and punched Aramis in the stomach before wrenching his sword from him.

The man punched him again before kneeing him in the face as he doubled over. Aramis’ vision swam for a few seconds. The carriage driver moved to his side and helped to pull him upright, grabbing his hair and pulling his head back.

‘Where are the papers?’

‘I haven’t got them…’

The third man took over hitting him, the punches were firm and fast. Aramis struggled to take a breath. The men let go of him and allowed him to fall to the floor. With no time to retaliate and knowing he would probably not be able to, all Aramis could do was ride out the beating and wait for them to ask the question again. He covered his head with his arms. One of the men managed to land a hard kick to his right forearm. Aramis could not help a cry of pain, he wondered if the kick had broken a bone, he screwed his eyes shut for a few seconds, oblivious to the continued kicks he was receiving. 

It was not until his hair was grabbed again and he was yanked into a sitting position that he managed to open his eyes. He felt the men searching his clothes, they roughly pulled at his doublet and breeches in their hunt for the papers. 

‘He ain’t got ‘em.’

‘What do we do? Kill ‘im?’

The man holding him let him go, Aramis collapsed back to the floor, unable to do anything else. He was struggling to take a breath, he was sure he had injured ribs as well as the bruising he would have to his chest. His arm throbbed where he had been kicked and he was already struggling to see as one eye was closing up due to the bruises. 

‘Leave ‘im,’ said one of the men, Aramis could no longer work out which man was which. 

‘I think there’s wolves around ‘ere.’

One of the other men chuckled. Aramis heard them walking away, one of them picked up his discarded sword as he went. Through pain filled eyes Aramis watched them until they were out of sight. He cursed himself inwardly. He had put himself in danger and was now paying for his idiocy. The only way he could redeem himself would be to get the papers to Treville and himself to the garrison infirmary. He would take any punishment for not following orders with good grace.

Painfully, slowly, and as quietly as he could, Aramis pushed himself up to sit, using his left arm for support. He tucked his injured right arm into his doublet, whimpering as he did so. He quickly decided he did not want to try standing until he had to, so inelegantly shuffled across the ground to where he had hidden the papers. All the time he watched in the direction the men had gone. It was only a matter of time before the noble was informed of the attempt and it was realised the papers really had been stolen. Aramis pulled the papers from their earthy hiding place and slipped them back into his doublet. 

Using the tree for support he slowly stood. His injured knee pulsed with pain, his breathing was fast, which in turn hurt his chest. Aramis leaned back on the tree for a few seconds until he could open his eyes again. He knew his mare was only about fifty yards away at the back of the thicket but the distance might as well have been fifty miles. 

With care he pushed himself away from the tree and took a step, stifling a yelp of pain with his left hand as he put pressure on his injured leg. A wave of dizziness threatened to undo his hard work in managing to stand but he remained upright. 

To take his mind off the walk to his horse Aramis thought about how annoyed his brothers would be when he got back to the garrison. Because he would make it back to the garrison. That was his only plan. Aramis knew Treville would be angry, that was a given. Athos would be disappointed and probably berate him. Porthos would sigh and roll his eyes, the thought made Aramis smile. And d’Artagnan, his lover would be very upset that he had not been with Aramis. They would all be annoyed that he had not sought one of them to go with him. 

They would want to know why he had not.

Aramis was forced to pause his walk for a few seconds, he could see his mare now. The thought of mounting up was not too appealing, but he would have to get on the back of the horse, he could not walk back to the garrison, it was too far. And there was nowhere near that he could seek help. The land belonged to the noble, word might get back to him or his whereabouts which would put anyone who helped Aramis in danger as well. 

He stumbled on, his thoughts returning to the question his friends would ask. Why had gone alone?

Aramis knew the answer. He still considered himself to be a failure for not being able to recover after the ordeal that he and d’Artagnan had suffered. They had talked, they had finally admitted their issues and had decided to take the road back to normality at a slow pace and they had accepted that it might never be as it was. Their normal was probably going to be different from how it had been before d’Artagnan had been forced to rape him. 

The horse shifted slightly as Aramis reached her. The calm animal nodded her head as if she understood that her master was injured. Aramis steadied himself by her side. He knew he would have to put pressure on his injured knee and use his injured arm. 

Taking a deep breath he held onto the saddle as he lifted his left leg up to the stirrup, bending his knee hurt, but he knew it would be worse as he pulled himself up. He wondered which would hurt more, his knee or his arm? Either way, it would be agony. Aramis worried that he might pass out. He took a deep breath and pulled himself up, gasping as he did so. More by luck than judgement he managed to swing his right leg over the horse’s back and settle himself in the saddle leaning forward as he tried to catch his breath. The pain from his knee and arm almost counteracted the pain in his chest. Aramis decided there was not much of him that did not hurt. 

With the slightest of indications he urged the horse forward, he knew she would get him back to the garrison. All Aramis had to do was stay on the back of the horse. 

Aramis felt guilty for what he was going to put his lover through. D’Artagnan would want to look after him when he got back to the garrison. 

As the horse began to walk forward Aramis realised how much his head hurt as well. He guessed some of the kicks and punches had reached their mark, his eye was pretty much closed. The action of the horse walking started to make his head ache more and more. Soon he closed his eyes as the pain took over his senses. 

Aramis sent up a silent apology to his lover and his friends for what he had done, his stupidity was going to cause them worry and upset. He just hoped he would make it back to the garrison whilst still conscious, because he knew he was going to pass out at some point.


	2. Chapter 2

Constance felt content, her lover was dozing next to her, his arm across her. She had her arms wrapped around him holding him tightly. D’Artagnan had fallen asleep after quietly thanking her for her patience. She had kissed him and pulled him into a tight embrace as he drifted off into a calm sleep. 

The last few weeks had been difficult. She had been shocked when she found out what had happened to d’Artagnan and Aramis. D’Artagnan had shut himself away, barely talking to anyone. It had not been until after her lover and Aramis had been away on a mission together that d’Artagnan had finally opened up to her fully about what had happened. Constance had hidden her shock as d’Artagnan had stumbled through his telling of the horrific attack. 

Now her lover seemed more accepting of what had happened and ready to move on. They had not been together for some weeks, Constance could understand why. D’Artagnan was worried that he would equate sex with her to what he had done to Aramis. She had told him she would wait for as long as he needed. He had laughed and said that was what Aramis had said. Poor d’Artagnan had been affected deeply by what he had been forced to do. 

When he had come to her house, knowing that her husband would be away for several hours, Constance had known he wanted to try to be with her. She had kissed him and looked him in the eyes. He had nodded, although she could see a reticence about him that was unusual. She reached up and brushed some hair from his face, cupping his cheek.

‘Are you sure? I don’t want you thinking you have to. You were assaulted as much as Aramis was. I know how much this affected you.’

D’Artagnan had looked away for a few seconds.

‘I want to be with you, Constance, I love you. Let me be with you.’

Constance smiled, her lover was not just there from a sense of duty, he was there because he wanted to be. She was sure he was ready.

She led him to her bedroom and pushed him to sit on the bed standing close to him. He had pulled her closer and kissed her on the lips. It had not taken long for them to start pulling each other's clothes off. The kissing and touching was at first tentative but gaining in confidence on d’Artagnan’s part. 

Afterwards, d’Artagnan had stretched out next to her lying on his side, leaning over her kissing her breasts and stroking his hand down her side and over her hip. She had slipped her arms around him and held him close. He seemed the most relaxed he had in weeks as he fell asleep. 

It saddened Constance that her lover could not get back to how things had been with his other lover. She had seen how sad the situation had made Aramis, how much he was trying not to let his own worries and fears affect d’Artagnan. The pair of them had been cruelly left unable to enjoy each others company as they had been. Constance hoped that d’Artagnan at least was beginning to get over the attack now that he had managed to be with her. 

Her lover shifted slightly next to her, moving closer, pressing his body against hers. He opened his eyes and looked at her for a few seconds. 

‘It’s alright,’ she said when she saw a look of guilt on his face. ‘I know you’re thinking about him. You want this for you two as well.’

She stroked his arm for a few seconds. 

‘Give it time. You’ll get there. He’ll get there.’

‘I hope so,’ said d’Artagnan, ‘I miss him. I know we’ve been together. And I know that now we’ve both really talked it’s better than it was…’

D’Artagnan trailed off, Constance held him tighter for a few seconds. 

‘My dear husband,’ she said, rolling her eyes as she spoke, ‘is going to be back in a couple of hours so you had better get dressed and gone. I need to tidy up. And you can spend the night with Aramis. Just be with him.’

She smiled when he chuckled at her light-hearted remark. They would be fine, she thought, patience and time would help d'Artagnan and Aramis in their recovery. 

MMMM

‘He should have been back by now,’ said Treville as he glared at the garrison gate.

Athos had been watching the increasingly angry Captain as he paced up and down. Treville had asked who Aramis had gone on his mission with. When Athos and Porthos had looked at him blankly, Treville had sighed before explaining that Aramis had been sent on what should have been a simple mission first thing that morning. Treville had expected his Musketeer to take one of his friends to give them a chance to get out of whatever duty they had been assigned. 

‘Why didn’t he take someone?’ asked Porthos, Athos knew he did not expect an answer. 

‘Because he’s an idiot,’ said Treville as he continued to scowl at the gate. 

Athos was stood by his horse, brushing the beast down. Porthos had been sparring with a couple of cadets before sending them off to practice on their own. Both Musketeers had been enjoying the warm weather, their doublets draped over the stairs that led up to Treville’s office. Intermittent musket shots could be heard from the practice range, a couple of the other commissioned men were taking the newest cadets through the workings of the weapons, a job that Aramis usually liked to do himself. 

They all looked up as d’Artagnan wandered through the gate. The young man looked the most relaxed he had in weeks. They had grown used to his slightly downcast expression and edginess whenever he was near Aramis. The two men were more at ease in each others company again, but they all knew it would take a while for them to fully recover from the attack they both endured. Athos guessed d’Artagnan had been with Constance, he had worked late the previous night and was not due to start his duty until well into the afternoon. 

Constance had been very understanding about what had happened between d’Artagnan and Aramis. She had kept away until d’Artagnan was suitably recovered. Athos admired her ability to deal with the odd situation she found herself in. He could not think of many women who would share their lover, and none that might share him with a man.

It seemed that d’Artagnan was finally moving on from the attack. The time he and Aramis had spent visiting a friend of Aramis’ had done both the men good. Athos was glad he had suggested the visit to Aramis. When they had returned Aramis had thanked him for covering for them both so that they could go. Athos had told him that if the trip helped to get them back to some semblance of normality it was worth it for all their sakes. Athos knew the pair still had things to work through but they were certainly less on edge since the trip. 

As d’Artagnan crossed the yard to greet them his smile faltered as he saw the look on Treville’s face.

‘What’s happened?’ he asked glancing around the yard.

‘Aramis,’ said Treville with no further explanation.

D’Artagnan looked at Athos and Porthos with confusion.

‘What about him?’

Porthos replied, ‘the Captain sent him on a mission this morning, a simple mission. He should have been back by now. He was supposed to take someone with him to act as a lookout. He ain’t taken anyone with him.’

‘Oh,’ said d’Artagnan, ‘I’ve not seen him.’

Treville huffed out a laugh, ‘I’m not blaming you, son,’ he said, ‘Aramis only has himself to blame if he’s come to some harm. Which, obviously I hope he hasn’t...but he should have been back by now.’

D’Artagnan looked pensive, ‘if I’d been here he might have asked me to go with him…’

‘Don’t blame yourself, d’Artagnan, he had any number of men to pick from,’ said Porthos. ‘We were both here. He could have taken a cadet with him. There’s no excuse.’

Athos watched d’Artagnan try to accept that he was not to blame for Aramis’ lateness. The young man was obviously worried. Athos was annoyed that his friend had put d’Artagnan into the situation he had. He wondered what Aramis was thinking to have decided to go on his own. It was quite unlike Aramis to disobey an order. He had done so in the past but then he had thought what he was doing was the better idea. In the current situation, it made no sense for him to have gone alone.

‘He was stupid to go alone, but he might be fine, there could be a perfectly simple reason he’s not back yet,’ said Porthos, ‘his horse could have been injured, something might have happened on the way there or back. He’s an adult, I think we should wait until morning before we do anything.’

Athos watched Treville mull over the sensible suggestion. Although Aramis was going to be in trouble for not following an order, they were perhaps reacting to his lateness too quickly. The place where Aramis had been sent was a few hours outside of the city. There were several reasons he could have been delayed. If he had gone with someone Athos doubted they would be quite as concerned about him as they were. 

‘If he is not back at first light we will think about a search for him,’ said Athos. 

Treville nodded before looking at the gate again for a few moments. The Captain shook his head and started back up the steps to his office. 

‘I’m sure he’s fine,’ said d’Artagnan, although he did not sound as if he believed his own words. 

MMMM

Porthos had ended up sending d’Artagnan to his room as if he were a child. The young Musketeer had finished his duty in the early hours before taking a seat on the bench by the table. His silent vigil had been broken when Porthos found him shortly before muster. The older Musketeer had told d’Artagnan in no uncertain terms that he was not the only one worried about the missing man and that he was doing himself no favours by exhausting himself waiting for Aramis to appear. D’Artagnan had finally acquiesced and walked off to his room muttering a few curses towards his friend. Porthos had found the situation amusing for a few moments. A welcome break to the worry that had become deeply seated in his mind as the night had worn on. 

In truth, Porthos had not slept well. His best friend had gone off on his own. Aramis had a reckless streak in him. Normally the spontaneity was welcome and useful, but sometimes Aramis would do something stupid and get himself, or all of them into danger. There had been a particularly vengeful husband a few years ago that had found Aramis having an illicit assignation with his wife. The quick tumble with the pretty women had not turned out well for Aramis who had found it almost impossible to explain to Treville how he had come by the bruising to his face when he turned up for his guard duty. Porthos smiled at the memory of how difficult it had been to keep a straight face as Aramis stumbled through a tall story that the Captain clearly did not believe from the outset. 

But what had happened the previous morning was unusual now. Aramis had settled in the last few years. D’Artagnan had somehow brought the sometimes careless man into line. 

Porthos sighed, the more he thought about the incident the more he realised what it was that had driven Aramis to go off on his own. The attack he and d’Artagnan had suffered had to be behind Aramis’ behaviour. The man had not been quite right since it happened. He was better than he had been, but they all knew more healing and reflection was required before everything could go back to normal. 

Porthos hoped his friend would turn up having been delayed by some simple thing. He hoped Aramis would be apologetic for going against orders and accept whatever punishment Treville deemed fit. Porthos wondered how long it had been since the floors of the infirmary and the mess were last scrubbed? Treville was good at inventive punishments for his men, he rarely dealt out corporal punishment. 

Porthos hoped his friend would be fine. But Porthos knew at the back of his mind he would be disappointed. 

Muster had been uneventful, Aramis was not missed as the men were never all together for muster. There were always some men gainfully employed elsewhere. Treville had asked Athos and himself how much longer they thought they should wait. Athos had said they should wait until mid-morning then go to the place Aramis had been heading. Treville had agreed and arranged for them both to have duties within the garrison. 

Athos had found some cadets that needed to work on their footwork, he had taken them to the far end of the yard and was busy shouting at them and generally badgering them to place their feet firmly and to keep their heads up. Porthos noted that Athos had positioned himself in such a way that in between bouts of intimidating the young cadets he could watch the garrison gate. 

Porthos had been given some paperwork by Treville. The Captain liked to share out the more dull duties of a leader with his commissioned men. Porthos sometimes wondered if it was his way of reminding them that although he was sometimes sedentary in his work it was important nonetheless. The invoices for food and weapons made sober reading to Porthos when he realised just how much it cost to run the garrison. 

His mind was not really on the tallying of numbers. Porthos kept one eye on the gate with frequent glances at Athos who was just as preoccupied. Whenever one of them was missing or in danger the other three worried. 

The cadet watching the gate called out to Porthos who looked up. 

Aramis was back.

But Aramis was not in one piece. His friend was slumped forward on his horse, the fingers of his left hand loosely wrapped around the reins. Aramis’ clothing was dishevelled and scuffed, he was missing his weapons and hat. It was obvious the man had been in a fight and not won.

Porthos was by the horse in seconds. The mare obediently stopped and waited patiently for her master to be dealt with. 

Aramis blinked a few times and tried to push himself back up to sit, wincing as he did so. Porthos made a lightning assessment of his friend. Aramis was bruised on his face, it was possible, from the look of the bruising and the grazing that he had been knocked out at some point. He had his right hand tucked into his doublet, Porthos guessed in an attempt to stabilise the injured limb. Had Aramis broken his arm? 

What was clear to Porthos was that there was a strong chance there were other injuries that were not immediately obvious to them. They needed to get Aramis off the horse and into the infirmary. 

Porthos reached up and rested his hand on Aramis’ knee, pulling his hand away when Aramis hissed in pain before gasping as the sharp intake of breath had obviously hurt him. 

Treville was behind him ordering the cadets that Athos had been working with to find Lemay and ready the infirmary. The flurry of activity went on behind him as Porthos reached up and steadied his friend as he shakily dismounted. Athos was there slipping his arm around Aramis’ waist, keeping him upright. 

Treville stepped in front of them. Aramis managed to look up at his Captain, the remorse obvious in his eyes. With what little strength the beaten man had left, he reached into his doublet and pulled out the papers, he handed them to Treville.

‘Sorry,’ Aramis said quietly, ‘I should have taken someone...I paid for it…’

‘You certainly did,’ said Treville shaking his head as he took the papers from his Musketeer.

Porthos had to be quick to stop his friend crumpling to the floor as he finally lost his battle with consciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

D’Artagnan walked purposefully across the yard. He had heard some men outside his room saying that Aramis had returned and did not look good. After pulling his boots on d’Artagnan had taken a deep breath and readied himself for the lie. The lie he had to tell every time something happened to his lover and he could not react as he wanted to. He had to go to Aramis and pretend that they were nothing more than good friends, brothers in arms. It would not be amiss for him to be upset; Aramis, Athos, Porthos and himself were seen as a team by the other men in the garrison. But d’Artagnan could not react as a lover. He could not be seen to weep or get over emotional. He could not gather his lover in his arms and soothe him as he wanted to. He could only show concern for his friend, not worry for his lover. 

As he crossed the yard he saw a couple of cadets leaving the infirmary, one of them, Jean, looked at him.

‘He’s unconscious,’ he said, ‘looks like he’s taken quite a beating. Doctor Lemay got here a few minutes ago.’

D’Artagnan nodded his thanks for the information as he pushed the door to the infirmary open. The lie would have to continue whilst the doctor was there. He was sure Lemay would have no issue with two men being in a relationship but they could not take that chance.

The room was filled with tension. Lemay and Porthos, d’Artagnan knew it would be Porthos, were busy dealing with Aramis who was lying prone on the table. Lemay was gently feeling Aramis’ arm as Porthos eased his doublet off, obviously trying not to jostle the unconscious man as he did so. Treville was stood back a few paces watching as Athos poured boiling water into a bowl for the doctor. 

Treville turned to d'Artagnan and spoke quietly.

‘We think he has a broken arm or wrist. He definitely has injured ribs, his breathing is shallow. From what I’ve seen of him so far he’s been punched and kicked. There’s something wrong with his leg or knee as well. He passed out shortly after he got here. Some of the kicks were to his head.’

Treville paused, looking back at his men working on their friend. 

‘It’s nasty, but he’s back and we’ll care for him as best we can.’

D’Artagnan nodded.

‘There’s nothing you can do at the moment,’ continued Treville, ‘let Porthos and the doctor do what they have to. I’ll need people to keep an eye on him to start with...you can take the first turn.’

Again d’Artagnan nodded. 

He turned his attention to his lover, as Porthos continued to strip him. With Athos’ help they eased his breeches down his legs, the unconscious man moaned in pain. Lemay, his brow furrowed with concern, gently lay Aramis arm down before moving to help Porthos and Athos. 

‘Looks like he’s been kicked or hit with something,’ said the doctor, as the swollen and bruised left knee was uncovered. 

‘How did he get back on his horse?’ asked Porthos.

‘I suspect because he needed to,’ remarked Athos as he lay a blanket over their friend. 

Lemay examined Aramis’ knee for a few seconds.

‘Cool cloths to bring down the swelling, not much else we can do,’ he said. ‘His forearm is broken, I’ll splint it for you, but you must keep him still.’

D’Artagnan noticed Porthos’ expression. He remembered when Porthos had suffered a similar broken bone. His friend must have been sympathising with Aramis. The injured man was in for several weeks of discomfort.

Lemay worked in silence for a few minutes, Porthos used the water and cloths Athos had prepared to clean the grazes and cuts caused by the kicks Aramis had received. Lemay paused occasionally and inspected the worst of the injuries, shaking his head when Porthos asked if his friend would need stitches on the worst of the cuts. Porthos nodded his agreement and went about carefully cleaning and dressing a deeper cut to Aramis’ head, above his eye, which was completely closed due to more swelling and bruising.

‘He has bruising across his body,’ continued the doctor as he finished splinting the broken arm. ‘I’ll leave some pain killing draughts, although I know he has a store of the ones he makes up himself. Time is what he needs.’

When the doctor had finished he stepped back from the table. 

‘You can move him to a bed now,’ he said.

With care, the four Musketeers moved Aramis, who had not stirred further to the nearest bed. D’Artagnan adjusted the pillow under his lovers head, stroking his hair as he did so. The doctor had turned away talking to Treville. 

‘I’ll try to get over tomorrow to see him again, but there is not much else I can do for him.’

‘Thank you,’ said Treville, ‘you’ve already done more than we could have asked.’

‘Will he regain full use of his arm?’ asked Athos.

Lemay looked at the injured man for a few seconds, ‘I do not know.’

‘I recovered,’ said Porthos twisting his hand and arm as he spoke, ‘he will as well.’

D’Artagnan liked Porthos’ optimism. 

Lemay looked at the Musketeers for a few seconds before he spoke again, ‘it’s not as bad as what happened to him in the Chatelet. It’s bad, but not as bad.’

Treville nodded, ‘thank you. I’ll walk you out,’ he turned to the rest of them, ‘you three can take it in turns to sit with him until he can be left. Find yourselves jobs around the garrison when you're not watching him.’

D’Artagnan nodded his thanks to his Captain as Porthos and Athos also acknowledged the concession to their friendship. Treville pulled a chair out from under the table, he placed it by the bed next to the unconscious man, he looked at d’Artagnan who took his cue and sat down. 

‘When he wakes up, just try to get him to keep his arm still, I doubt he will be up for much moving about, but watch him anyway,’ said Lemay as he gathered his bag and walked to the door. 

‘We won’t be far, call us when he starts to wake,’ said Porthos as he and Athos followed the doctor and Treville from the room.

As Porthos quietly closed the door, d’Artagnan turned his attention to his lover. He could finally allow his guard to drop a little. He glanced at the open shutters on the windows. No one was nearby and he suspected Porthos would keep any of the other men away with a dangerous glare. D’Artagnan slipped his hand around the fingers of Aramis’ left hand. 

‘You’re a stupid fool,’ he said quietly, ‘why did you go off on your own? It’s not as if you have something to prove. Is it because you knew I was with Constance?’

D’Artagnan spent a few seconds changing the cooled cloth on his lover's leg. Aramis’ knee looked awful, his lover would not be walking unaided for a while, it reminded him of the similar injury he had been dealt during his stay in the Chatelet.

‘You’re not jealous. I know you’re not jealous of us, it was the first time I’ve been with her since I did...that to you.’

He sighed, he did not know what to think, did not know how he should react when Aramis came around. Had his lover gone off on his own due to a moment of stupidity? Was it just the Aramis of old, showing a bit of bravado? Or had there been something else? 

They had talked, they had admitted their issues to each other. It had taken Aramis a while to confess all that was bothering him, but he had done and they had been together since the attack. Things were different, but they still had each other. What had happened could have driven them apart, but they were stronger than that.

So why had his lover acted so stupidly? 

Aramis moved slightly, his hand slipping out of d’Artagnan’s grasp. He moaned in pain and turned his head slightly. D’Artagnan watched him for a few seconds until he was sure Aramis was coming around. He quickly crossed to one of the open windows and leaned out, he caught Athos’ eye and beckoned his friend over. Athos was quick to cross the yard, Porthos noticed and joined them.

D’Artagnan retook his seat by his lover, leaning forward to put himself in Aramis’ eyeline. As the injured man opened his one good eye he focused on d’Artagnan for a few seconds. D’Artagnan took his hand again, rubbing his thumb across his palm.

‘You’re injured, you’ll get better, but you need to rest. Don’t try to talk.’

D’Artagnan was a little surprised when Aramis pulled his hand away from d’Artagnan, he looked at Porthos and Athos for a few seconds before refocusing back on him. 

‘What happened?’

‘What do you remember?’ asked Athos.

D’Artagnan lay his hand over Aramis’ left wrist for a few seconds but again Aramis shifted his arm. D’Artagnan wondered if his contact was unwelcome due to the number of bruises his lover had received?

‘I don’t remember being in a fight…’

‘You were on a mission, to retrieve some papers,’ said Porthos, ‘you were meant to take someone with you, but you didn’t.’

Aramis looked confused, ‘why didn’t I take someone?’

‘We rather hoped you could tell us that,’ said Athos. ‘The memory may come back, it is not the first time you have lost a few hours after a head injury or traumatic event.’

D’Artagnan did not like to be reminded of the time Aramis had completely shut down in the middle of a mission. It had been weeks before Aramis fully remembered all that had gone on.

‘When did it happen before?’ Aramis’ confused expression remained. 

D’Artagnan sat back in his seat glancing up at Porthos who shrugged his shoulders slightly. 

‘When you were infiltrating that Comte’s group of men. You and d’Artagnan went in…’ said Porthos slowly.

Aramis shook his head slightly. 

‘You’ve only just come around, give it a few minutes,’ Porthos said with a smile. 

D’Artagnan could see the smile was only for Aramis’ benefit. Aramis seemed placated by the comment. The gaps in Aramis’ memory were understandable, d’Artagnan knew well how confusing it was to wake up after a blow to the head, his lover was obviously in pain which was probably clouding his thoughts. 

Aramis looked up at Athos and Porthos, ‘who’s turn is it to sit with me now?’ 

‘Don’t you want d’Artagnan for a bit?’ asked Porthos.

‘I’m sure he’s got better things to do,’ replied Aramis with as much of a smile as he could manage through the bruising on his face. 

D’Artagnan tried not to react to the apparent dismissal, Athos moved around the bed, stopping by him, his hand on the back of the chair. 

‘I’ll stay with you for a bit,’ he said. 

Still trying not to react, d’Artagnan rose from the chair. He hesitated, wanting to lean in and kiss his lover, or stroke his face, or something. But Aramis had already refocused on Athos, on his next keeper.

‘We’ll be in the mess,’ said Porthos with a look towards d’Artagnan who nodded slightly.

‘Thank you,’ said Aramis, ‘sorry to have taken you away from whatever you were doing.’

‘That’s alright,’ said d’Artagnan with an attempt of a smile of his own. 

Porthos led him from the room without another word. D’Artagnan guessed Aramis’ odd attitude towards him had worried the others as well. 

MMMM

‘He’s just confused,’ said Porthos, ‘we’ve all done it. Bangs on the head, it scrambles you up. He’ll be fine after he's slept for a bit. Probably won’t even remember waking up the first time. Remember what he was like after the Chatelet? He woke up several times not knowing who we were-’

‘That was different,’ said d’Artagnan, his gaze fixed on the infirmary. 

Porthos sighed, he knew his friend was right. Aramis had acted quite differently towards d’Artagnan. When he had suggested d'Artagnan leave and allow Athos to sit with him Porthos had been surprised. 

They had moved to sit at the table, facing the infirmary. They could not see into the room, the bright sunlight of the July day casting the windows into shadow. The cadets that had helped them initially had wandered back to where they had been practising. Porthos watched as they worked on what Athos had told them. The young men were improving with each attempt at the pattern of footwork. 

Serge emerged from the mess, he stopped by the table, placing a jug of water and some cups down. He looked across to the infirmary. 

‘I heard what happened,’ he said, ‘why’d he let himself get beaten up?’

‘We don’t know,’ said Porthos as he poured water for himself and d’Artagnan.

‘Why ain’t you in there?’ Serge said looking at d’Artagnan.

‘Athos is taking a turn,’ Porthos replied before d’Artagnan could speak.

Serge muttered something under his breath before wandering back to the kitchen. 

Both Musketeers sat up straighter when Athos left the infirmary and walked across to them, he indicated for them to stay where they were. 

‘He’s asleep, I doubt he will wake up for a while,’ said Athos as he stopped by the table. 

Porthos could tell his friend had more to say. D’Artagnan was looking at him with apprehension.

‘He has gaps in his memory.’

‘What can’t he remember?’ asked d’Artagnan.

‘Sorry, but he does not know that you two are together.’

D’Artagnan’s eyes went wide, he stared at Athos the disbelief obvious.

Athos continued, ‘I asked him about a few specific missions. I asked him about the time you were nearly sold into slavery...he could not remember that. He does not recall infiltrating the Comte’s group of men...and he does not remember being in the Chatelet.’

Porthos looked towards the infirmary as he took in the information. 

‘Does he remember being attacked...being raped?’ asked d’Artagnan quietly.

Athos shook his head, ‘I do not think so. I asked a few questions and made some comments but he does not remember what you two have.’

D’Artagnan looked down, Porthos could tell he was trying not to react to the news. 

‘It might come back,’ said Athos, ‘but it might not.’

They sat in silence for a few seconds, lost in thought. Porthos found it hard to remember what their lives had been like before Aramis and d’Artagnan had been together. It had been a difficult start for the pair but they had developed their relationship over the years. They were nothing but professional at work. There had been difficulties for them both, but they had worked through any issues. 

‘What do we do?’ asked d’Artagnan. 

The question was at the forefront of Porthos’ mind as well. 

‘Should we tell him? Or should we leave him to remember on his own...if he remembers at all?’

‘He forgot stuff before,’ said Porthos, ‘that came back…’

‘This is a lot more than he forgot before. He has lost whole missions. If he has forgotten his time in the Chatelet, the chances are he has forgotten about Bardet as well. What do we do if...when, he notices that Marc is not here?’

Athos looked between the two men at the table. The loss of their friend, giving up his life to save Aramis, had hit them all hard. Aramis had been devastated and taken some time to come to terms with what Bardet had done for him.

‘We can’t tell him about our relationship without telling him about the other things,’ said d’Artagnan as the realisation hit him. 

The thought of sparing Aramis from the horrific things that had happened to him over the last three years was tempting. Porthos knew there were incidents he had experienced that he would gladly forget forever. But he would not want to forget his friendship with Aramis who had been his best friend for many years. He could not imagine what d’Artagnan was going through. The relationship d’Artagnan had with Aramis was intrinsically linked to some of the horrific things that had happened to him. They could not tell him about one without the other.

Athos moved to sit by d’Artagnan, he sat heavily, with a sigh. 

‘What do we do?’

There was another pause as they mulled over the question again. 

‘We wait,’ said Porthos after a while. 

Athos and d’Artagnan looked at him. 

‘We give him a bit of time to remember on his own. You said yourself the memories might come back,’ Porthos continued, looking at Athos, ‘let’s give him a chance to remember on his own. He’s only just come around after being badly beaten. We could be getting ahead of ourselves.’

Athos nodded, ‘you are right. We should give him a bit of time to recover before we start to consider what we should or should not tell him.’

‘I’ll go and sit with him for now,’ said Porthos decisively.

‘Thank you,’ said d’Artagnan, ‘I’m not sure I would want to be there if he really doesn’t remember when he wakes up again.’

‘We will cross that bridge if we come to it,’ said Porthos, hoping he sounded reassuring to the younger man. 

Porthos was not hopeful. He was sure they were going to have some difficult decisions to make on Aramis’ behalf over the next few days.


	4. Chapter 4

Aramis was lying, slightly propped up with pillows to aid his breathing, on one of the infirmary beds, a blanket over him. He slowly opened his eyes. Porthos was stood across the room, looking out of the window across the garrison yard. His friend was not aware that he was awake. Aramis decided to remain quiet. His head hurt, his body hurt, his arm and knee were both throbbing with pain. Aramis was not ready for the conversations about how he was feeling and why he had gone off on his own. 

He remembered when he had woken earlier, it was hazy in his mind but he remembered his brothers all being worried about him. The worry would normally have been expected, but it had been different somehow. He knew he had lost some memories, he had no idea why he had gone on his own on the mission. But the reactions they had made when he could not remember a mission involving a Comte that he went on with d’Artagnan seemed odd. Particularly when Athos mentioned him forgetting things before. He found it wryly amusing that he could not remember forgetting things. 

And why had they thought he would want d’Artagnan to sit with him in particular? That had been very odd. D’Artagnan had tried to take his hand a few times, which was also strange, had he been getting stitches or some other uncomfortable medical help, grasping a brothers hand for reassurance would have been normal. His brothers had given each other worried looks during their brief conversation before Porthos had pretty much taken d’Artagnan from the room. 

Athos had waited for them to go before asking him a series of odd questions. Asking him if he remembered quite specific things. Some of them he could, but a lot he could not. 

He had suffered memory loss before after a head injury, but it had always come back to him. Usually, it was only the immediate preceding few minutes or hours that was lost. This time it was different. From what he could gather from Athos’ questions he had lost weeks of memory. Whole missions had gone from his mind. 

One odd thing he found, as he tried to piece together what he had lost was that he could not remember sleeping with a man for some time. He could remember his two mistresses, the delectable widow, Madam Labelle, and the kindly Madam Roux whose husband approved of their liaisons as he could no longer please his wife as a husband should. 

There had always been men in his life, he generally only remained with them for a few months, nothing was ever serious it was fun, it was just about the sex. Why could he not remember being with anyone for the last few years? Aramis decided that memories were strange. 

He wondered if he would remember who he had been sleeping with. He hoped when he was recovered enough to leave the infirmary he would have remembered or he could be due an embarrassing meeting with whoever he was sharing a bed with. 

Aramis knew he could not really ask his brothers if they knew who he was sleeping with. He wondered if they might ask him at some point as they continued to jog his memory?

All he could do was wait. His injuries were such that he was in for a lot of waiting. His broken arm would take several weeks to heal. 

Would he have regained his memories by then?

MMMM

Whenever she heard that a Musketeer had been injured her blood ran cold. Her first thought was always for her lover, but even if the injured man was not d’Artagnan, she was fond and friendly with several of the men her lover worked with. When she heard the injured man was Aramis and that he had been hurt badly she had visited the garrison at the first opportunity she had. 

She was surprised to find d’Artagnan sat outside the infirmary and not at his other lover's side. He was sat on the floor leaning against a wall, his legs stretched out in front of him, his expression downcast. She approached him cautiously, fearing the worst. She tried to work out what she would say, she struggled to contain her own emotion at the thought of Aramis being dead. She loved him as if he were her brother and the loss his death would be to d’Artagnan was beyond measure. 

Constance stopped in front of d’Artagnan who looked up at her.

‘Is he…’

D’Artagnan shook his head, ‘no. He’ll be fine.’

Constance could not hide her confusion. 

‘He’s forgotten me,’ said d’Artagnan. 

‘Forgotten you?’

‘He’s forgotten that we’re together. He’s forgotten that we’ve been together for over two years.’

Constance gathered her skirts together and sank down onto the ground next to her lover, she twisted herself around to sit next to him. She knew she could not show too much affection to him out in the open. Most of the men in the garrison knew about their affair but it would not be right to flaunt it. 

‘He’s been injured, surely it’s temporary?’

D’Artagnan shook his head and sighed, ‘he’s fully awake now, he’s in a lot of pain, but the headache has gone. We thought it was just a result of the beating and that the memories would return. But they haven’t.’

Constance was not entirely sure what to say. 

‘He can remember things that involve me, he knows we’re friends, but he just doesn’t know were lovers. He’s forgotten some missions we went on together…and he’s forgotten being raped...and being arrested.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Constance. 

She took his hand and kissed it, holding on to him.

‘Does he know he’s missing memories? Have you told him that you’re lovers?’

D’Artagnan shook his head, ‘he knows he’s lost some memories, but I haven’t told him we’re lovers. Constance, he’s forgotten he was raped. He’s forgotten all the attacks on him, and me. If I tell him we’re lovers I’ll have to tell him he’s been raped.’

Constance could see the horrible position d’Artagnan was in. 

‘Are you going to keep it from him? How can you keep him in the dark?’

D’Artagnan bowed his head, ‘I want to tell him about us, I want to tell him I love him and that we’ve been together for months but I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘I’d have thought that was obvious. He has no memory of being forced to submit to save me, he has no memory of being tied up and raped to save me. He doesn’t remember being drugged and taken advantage of by a former lover. He doesn’t remember being arrested and tortured and suffering to keep me safe. He doesn’t know that Marc was executed to save him. Constance, he doesn’t remember I was forced to rape him.’

D’Artagnan had tears in his eyes, he sniffed.

‘How can we tell him all those things?’

‘He doesn’t know how much you love him,’ said Constance, ‘he doesn’t know that he’s had you by his side for over two years. He doesn’t know all the good times you two have had, he doesn’t know that he had the pleasure of showing you how to be an attentive lover. He doesn’t know that he is happy with you.’

D’Artagnan seemed to be considering her words. 

‘He’s never had a long term relationship with anyone. You’ve made him what he is now. And you are thinking that you should not allow him to have that back? Yes, horrible things have happened to him, but they have shaped him, and you, into what you are now.’

‘I’m not sure I can-’

‘But you must, it will be hard, but think what you are denying him by not telling him? Think about what it will do to you. You want him back don’t you? Then you must tell him.’

‘He’s injured-’

‘Then wait until he is stronger, but you cannot play God.’

Constance hoped she had not been too stern with d’Artagnan but she could not stand the thought of what he was proposing. She did not want either her lover or her friend to lose something that was so important to each of them. Who were they to decide that Aramis did not need to know the life-changing things that had happened to him over the recent months? Some of those things were horrible but they defined the Musketeer, they had moulded him into the man he now was. Or at least the man he had been before the memory loss. 

MMMM

Porthos was pleased to see Aramis had managed to push himself up to sit. With one arm in a sling and his injured ribs causing him pain, it was quite an achievement. His friend looked much more focused now that he had fully come around and was not suffering from the headache that had plagued him to start with. Lemay had said that, provided he was careful and did not strain his knee, Aramis could start to move about again. Although he would have to be supervised. It had given Porthos some relief when Aramis had said that he would be fine without help. 

Most of Aramis was there, most of what made the man who he was, was still evident. But the gaps were telling. Aramis had accepted that he had lost memories and also accepted that they might not come back. They had pretended there was nothing significant that he had lost. Watching d’Artagnan’s face as Athos said the words was heartbreaking. The younger man had not been able to make eye contact with any of them, least of all Aramis. In the end he had excused himself, saying he was late to see Constance and left the room. As he had gone Aramis had made a comment about young love and how glad he was to have at least not to have forgotten some of his own early dalliances. 

Porthos gathered what he would need to change the dressings that his friend still had. Lemay had, over the previous two days, gradually stopped redressing each injury. On his last visit, he had said that they would probably only need to keep the injury to Aramis’ head covered for another couple of days and told them he would only return if they thought any of the injuries had become infected. 

‘Am I to be allowed out today?’ asked Aramis hopefully as Porthos sat on the edge of his bed and batted his hand away as the injured man tried to remove the bandage himself.

‘We’ll see,’ said Porthos as he worked, ‘it’s warm out there, we could find you a shady spot to continue your convalescence.’

Aramis chuckled at Porthos’ mocking tone. Porthos was glad his friend was on the mend despite the parts of him that had not yet mended.

‘There are some cadets that need extra help with shooting aren’t there...George could do with some one-to-one help, unless Antoine is still helping him?’

Porthos frowned, he leaned back and looked at Aramis carefully. He was not surprised that his friend had forgotten what had happened with Antoine and George, the incident was linked to Aramis’ arrest. 

Aramis had realised that he had said something which was not correct. 

‘What don’t I remember?’

Porthos was unsure how to respond without telling Aramis about his arrest. He decided to be as truthful as he could.

‘Antoine is dead. You had been injured, this was a couple of months ago. Antoine was a spy, we don’t know who for, but he tried to kill you. George defended you. George got his commission after that.’

Aramis looked surprised, ‘Antoine, a spy? He was very good, I’d never have suspected.’

‘None of us did,’ said Porthos, pleased that Aramis had accepted the simple explanation.

‘How did I get injured that time?’

Porthos thought fast, ‘some of the finer citizens of the city had a fight, we got involved, you were hit from behind.’

The quick lie seemed to work, Aramis nodded, ‘I wonder why Antoine went after me? I guess we’ll never know.’

Porthos almost sighed with relief. It was unpleasant not being able to talk normally to his friend, keeping things from him. But they had decided the truth had to wait, at least until Aramis was properly up and about. Constance had talked to the three of them, she had told them in no uncertain terms that they were not to keep the truth from Aramis. Despite the traumatic events that he would have to be told about they owed it to their friend to fill him in on the things he had forgotten. How Aramis would react to the news was something they would have to deal with when he had been fully told about what had happened to him over the last couple of years. 

Poor d’Artagnan had been very quiet. They all knew why. There was a possibility that after Aramis was told that he and d’Artagnan were lovers the man might not want to continue the relationship. If Aramis’ could not remember being in a loving relationship with d’Artagnan they could not expect him to just continue. Being told what had happened was very different from having lived through it, felt it, experienced it. 

The knowledge could, and probably would change the dynamics of the four of them. Would Aramis be able to continue to work with d’Artagnan? Would Treville be forced to split the group up?

But Constance was right, they could not play God, Aramis had a right to know about the significant things that had happened in his life. 

Although, there was still the chance that the memories would come back on their own, and none of the unpleasantness of telling Aramis what had happened would be necessary. 

As he finished redressing the healing wound to Aramis’ head Porthos smiled.

‘It’s looking fine. How’s the knee today? Do you feel up to trying to put a little pressure on it?’

Aramis nodded, ‘it’s better than it was. Although you are still going to have to hold me up. I will be your damsel in distress for a few more days.’

Chuckling at his friend's joke, Porthos nodded and helped Aramis to twist around to sit on the edge of the bed, resting his feet on the floor. The action of bending his abused knee caused Aramis to hiss in pain. 

‘Did something happen in the last couple of weeks?’ asked Aramis.

‘What sort of something?’ Porthos replied, unsure where Aramis was going with the question.

‘I’m just trying to work out why I went on my own, against orders.’

Porthos had to think fast again, the need to come up with quick, honest sounding answers was quite taxing. Lying to his friend was not something he was enjoying. 

‘Not that I recall. Perhaps you had a falling out with one of your ladies?’

Aramis did not believe him, Porthos could tell his friend was sceptical. The sooner they decided Aramis was well enough to be spoken to honestly the better, thought Porthos. 

Deciding that conversations about what Aramis had been up to should be stopped, Porthos slipped his arm around his friend's waist and started to ease him up to stand. Once upright, his weight all on his right leg, Aramis slowly put pressure on his left foot. Porthos watched Aramis concentrating hard, trying not to show the pain he was in. But the gasp of pain, quickly followed by a wince of further pain as his abused ribs made themselves known, told Porthos they were trying to do too much too soon. 

‘Alright, sit back down, slowly,’ said Porthos as he eased his friend back onto the bed. 

Aramis had his eyes screwed shut as his panted breaths came fast. It took him a while to work through the pain. Porthos waited patiently, his arm around his friend's shoulders. Aramis leaned into him. 

‘Sorry,’ Aramis managed to say when he had finally calmed down enough to speak, ‘I guess it hurts more than I thought.’

‘You’ll get there,’ said Porthos as he helped Aramis to lie back on the bed.

Aramis had exhausted himself with the attempt to stand, his eyelids were drooping. 

‘I’ll try again tomorrow,’ said the injured man, his voice slurred as sleep took him. 

Porthos had not enjoyed the setback, it meant they would have to delay talking to him, telling him what they had been keeping from him. 

The truth had to be told, but it would have to wait.


	5. Chapter 5

Athos lowered Aramis onto the bench and took the stick he had used to assist in the slow walk across the yard. He rested the stick against the wall behind Aramis, making sure it was within reach of his friend. He knew Aramis could not walk without one of them taking most of his weight but he did not want to be seen to leave him with no means of support. He unfolded the blanket he had brought with him from the infirmary and draped it over his friend's shoulders. Aramis rolled his eyes. 

‘We do not want you getting chilled,’ said Athos in his most patronising tone, before smiling at his friend.

‘Your chivalry knows no bounds,’ said Aramis with a smirk. 

Athos settled himself opposite Aramis who was pouring them both wine from the jug Serge had put down as they were making their slow progress across the yard. Aramis had adapted to only having the use of one arm quite quickly and Athos was determined not to undermine his friend by taking over all the small jobs for him. 

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes sipping the wine. Athos could tell Aramis was enjoying the fresh air. He had been out briefly the previous day but a change in the weather had seen Porthos insist he return to the infirmary. Aramis had allowed Porthos to help him back with little complaint.

They had noticed that Aramis was quieter than usual, his talkative nature subdued. Athos supposed it was to be expected, he was still in pain and confused by the memory loss. Porthos had told him a few things, being careful to skirt the traumatic events. 

D’Artagnan was conspicuous by his absence, under normal circumstances they would have struggled to keep him away from his ailing lover. But at that moment the two men were not lovers at least one of them was not. Aramis had shown no sign of recovering that most important lost memory.

D’Artagnan had taken his turn to be with Aramis but had told Porthos and him that it was difficult. He was finding it hard to behave as he would have done before they started their relationship. He had told them it would be better if he did the minimum, at least until they deemed Aramis fit and strong enough to be told about the memories he had lost. 

And after that, none of them knew what would happen. 

‘Are you trying to decide when you are going to tell me about the things I’ve forgotten?’ asked Aramis who had been studying Athos.

With a sigh, Athos nodded, ‘I’m sorry we have been keeping things from you-’

‘I’m guessing something particularly bad happened? And you are not sure if I should be told what it is because you are thinking about my well being. Thinking that it would be better for me not to know what it is.’

‘Your perceptions have not diminished since your injury,’ replied Athos. ‘We have been debating your well being. Perhaps we should have included you?’

Aramis shook his head, ‘you’ve all had my best interests at heart, I cannot berate you for that. It’s difficult, knowing I’m missing things. I’d hoped, like you, I expect, that it would come back on its own, but so far I’ve not had a hint, no flashes of memory, nothing. I wish I knew what made me go on the mission on my own, that is the thing that has upset me the most. I’ve caused you all distress with what can only be described as my own stupidity and I have no idea why I did it. I’m sorry.’

Athos looked at his cup of wine for a few seconds before replying. 

‘Can you wait for another few days? We will talk to you, but we want you to concentrate on your health first, then you will be in a better position to properly take in what we need to tell you.’

Aramis nodded, ‘I hate to think what is so traumatic that you feel the need to wait, but I understand. Perhaps it will come back on its own before you have to tell me?’

Athos hoped Aramis was right, it was what they all wanted to happen, none of them wanted to tell their friend he had been attacked and spent time in the Chatelet. D’Artagnan had said he wanted to be the one to talk to him. Athos hoped it was the right choice, but if anyone was going to jog Aramis’ memory, it would be d’Artagnan.

As Aramis continued to improve and regain his strength, as the bruises faded, and his ribs healed, the time would arrive for them to have the conversation that none of them really wanted to have. 

MMMM

_‘I won't let it impact on us. And neither will he. You mean too much to me for me to let anything jeopardise us...you know that don't you?’_

_‘I know you would not intentionally do anything...but what if one of you does something unintentionally? ...But that will not happen...will it? ....Do not ever put me in that situation again.’ ___

__Aramis paused what he was doing, his brow furrowed. Had that been a memory resurfacing? He did not remember the conversation and had no idea what it was about. He guessed he had upset Athos somehow, but what could he have done that would impact on their little group?_ _

__He looked back at the guns he had been straightening up on the shelf. With only the use of one hand and the inability to get very far without a stick to rest on, he was very limited in what he could do._ _

__When he had been deemed fit enough to leave the infirmary he had hoped Treville would find him some work to do. The Captain had promised he would think of something, but other than annoying cadets and taking stock of their supplies there was little the injured Musketeer could achieve. He had wandered into the armoury a while ago, he was fed up with being stared at by the cadets. He wondered if they knew he was missing memories, even knew some of what he was missing. Had they been sworn to secrecy?_ _

__The gaps in his memory were starting to annoy him, he knew from the guarded conversation he had with Athos and Porthos that something very traumatic had happened to him. He felt strong enough to learn whatever it was. He wondered if the flash of memory he had just experienced was something to do with it?_ _

__He moved to the table, as he was about to pull out the chair to sit down another memory resurfaced. He had a recollection of talking to Marc Bardet in the armoury, he was asking Bardet for help with something. He could not ask the other men for help for some reason. The only reason he could think of was that he and Marc were the same way inclined. Aramis smiled at one of the memories he still had. Sleeping with Marc had been pleasant, he had enjoyed helping the Musketeer to understand that he did not have to do the same thing each time he slept with a man, did not have to be led._ _

__A thought struck him, since he had been allowed out of the infirmary most of the longer serving men had talked to him, either passing the time of day or sitting and having a conversation. Aramis had not seen Marc. He wondered if he was away on a long mission?_ _

__When he had done all that he could in the armoury Aramis took up his walking stick and slowly made his way across the yard towards the stables. He had wanted to wait until the stable lads were having their evening meal before visiting his horse. He did not want to take part in the inevitable conversation with the overly curious boys about his injuries. There were not many other men around at that time so he was able to slip into the stable unnoticed, pulling a purloined apple from his pocket as he did so._ _

__The smell of the horses and the hay hit him. He had missed the smell, a comforting change to the sterile smell of the infirmary. A couple of the horses snickered as he walked passed them, one of them nodded his head up and down, reacting to the intrusion._ _

__His mare was in the last stall, he stroked her muzzle for a few seconds whispering words of thanks to her for getting him back to the garrison safely. Not that he could remember the journey, but they had told him he had somehow got himself mounted up and travelled back to Paris on the loyal beast._ _

__As he fed her the apple he glanced around the stable. He was not surprised as another memory came to mind, but again he could not work out the context. He was talking to someone, he was angry with them for something they had done. Whoever it was had been confined to the garrison for a few days and Aramis seemed pleased that they would not be around him for a while._ _

__In the next instance, Aramis was struck by another memory, the same person, pinning him to the wall of the stable and kissing him. Kissing him with passion and touching him. Aramis knew he had liked the touch, liked what the man was doing to him, how he was being touched and teased by the man._ _

__With a gasp of recognition, Aramis stumbled away from his horse, ending up leaning on the wall in the same spot that the man had pinned him. The man who had kissed him. Aramis could not believe what he was remembering. Surely the memory was wrong?_ _

__The man that was kissing him and touching him was d’Artagnan._ _

__MMMM_ _

__D’Artagnan watched Serge pottering around at the back of the mess, taking things off shelves and wiping the shelf before replacing the pots and pans. The old soldier had wandered over to him a little while ago and asked after Aramis. D’Artagnan had told him there was no change, Aramis had not remembered the things he had lost. Serge had tutted, laid his hand on d’Artagnan’s shoulder for a few seconds, and shook his head. There was nothing to be said. The cook had wandered off, leaving d’Artagnan to his solitude._ _

__He picked at the food he had put on his plate. The mess was empty, the stable boys had finished their meal a few minutes before and been shooed away by Serge. D’Artagnan had deliberately chosen to eat when there was no one else around. He was getting fed up with the other men asking how Aramis was._ _

__D'Artagnan wanted his lover back. He wanted Aramis to remember on his own, he did not want to have to tell his lover that they had been sleeping together for months, that they were committed to each other, that Aramis had not been with another man, willingly, since they had been together._ _

__What if Aramis was shocked and abhorred the idea of being with d’Artagnan?_ _

__He could feel himself getting worked up again. It was getting increasingly difficult not to let his worries about the future spill out. He had talked to Constance, he had cried into her shoulder. She had held him and tried her best to console him._ _

__The whole thing was so frustrating. They had started to recover from the attack on them both, they were slowly making progress, he knew it would take time and might never go back to how it had been but things were getting back to normal._ _

__And now, it might all be gone._ _

__A movement by the open door made him look up._ _

__Aramis was standing in the doorway looking at him. The sunlight behind him left his lover in shadow. D’Artagnan could not see Aramis’ expression._ _

__They had not had much interaction over the last few days, d’Artagnan had done his turn, watching over Aramis as he got over the pain of the beating, but as he had become more mobile there had not been any real need for him to be watched constantly._ _

__D’Artagnan suspected Aramis would be allowed to return to his own rooms in the next couple of days to continue his recovery in more comfortable surroundings._ _

__Knowing he would be expected to react to his friends' appearance in the mess d’Artagnan rose from his seat and pulled out another chair. Aramis hobbled across the room and sat down, leaning his stick against the table. As d’Artagnan retook his own seat he was a little unnerved to find he was being looked at intently by Aramis._ _

__‘How are you feeling?’_ _

__D’Artagnan knew Aramis was still in some pain, and still stiff but his overall health seemed to have improved greatly now that he was able to move about a bit more freely._ _

__‘Better than a couple of days ago,’ replied his lover._ _

__His lover. Or his former lover? D’Artagnan was not sure what it would be after they filled in Aramis’ memory for him._ _

__‘You’ve been a bit quiet around me,’ said Aramis slowly, his tone guarded._ _

__D’Artagnan did not respond, unsure what to say._ _

__‘I thought at first something had happened that meant we were not as good friends as I thought we were.’_ _

__Aramis glanced around and checked that they were alone apart from Serge who had limited hearing anyway._ _

__‘But I’m sure that it’s actually the opposite.’_ _

__D’Artagnan could not help the tiny glimmer of hope that lit up within him. He tried not to show it on his face. Aramis had looked away again it was clear he was trying to work something out in his mind._ _

__‘I’ve had a few memories come back to me. They don’t really make any sense, it’s just odd bits of conversations. But I remembered being angry with you for something and then I remembered…’_ _

__Aramis trailed off, d’Artagnan noticed that his lover's cheeks had flushed. Aramis looked embarrassed._ _

__‘I remembered us, together in the stables. You were kissing me. Passionately. I was enjoying it...enjoying it very much.’_ _

__D’Artagnan nodded, there was no point in denying it. The encounter was something that d’Artagnan liked to replay in his mind, it was one of the few times he had managed to leave Aramis speechless._ _

__‘Have we been lovers? Are we lovers?’_ _

__D’Artagnan nodded again. Aramis shifted slightly, he seemed uncomfortable, and not just because of his injuries._ _

__‘I wish I could remember...I’m sorry I don’t remember. At least your reaction when I first came around makes sense now.’_ _

__D’Artagnan was about to speak but Aramis stopped him._ _

__‘You’ve said you’ll tell me what I’m missing soon. I’m stronger than I was, I think I need to know. But I don’t want to rush you in that. There’s obviously something really bad if you’ve held off telling me about our relationship. I’ll wait for you to be ready to talk, but please don’t leave it too much longer.’_ _

__D’Artagnan smiled, ‘thank you. You don’t know how difficult the last few days have been for me. For us. You’re missing so much of what has made you into the man you are today...or were until you lost the memories. Can you wait until I’ve talked to the others, another day or two? There are things we need to tell you that are difficult and I want to make sure we get it right.’_ _

__Aramis looked concerned but nodded, ‘I’ve waited this long. Another day or two won’t matter. I just feel a bit empty now that I understand that I’m missing such important things.’_ _

__D’Artagnan took a deep breath, pushing the emotions away, he could not react to his lover's distress. He needed to do Aramis justice, he owed his lover to get it right when he talked to him. The thought of telling him the abhorrent things that had happened to him filled him with dread. But it had to be done._ _

__And then they could deal with Aramis’ reaction._ _


	6. Chapter 6

Porthos smirked as Aramis inspected his work. He had cleaned guns hundreds of times and Aramis knew full well he knew what he was doing. But his friend was clearly bored and frustrated at his inability to really do anything. His broken arm had left him feeling a bit useless and although he had been allowed to supervise some of the cadets with target practice he was unable to actually show them anything having to rely on the other commissioned men for that. 

‘Does it pass inspection?’ asked Porthos.

Aramis made a mock frown and peered at the parts of the gun for a few seconds, ‘it will do I suppose,’ he said. 

‘Now you know what I felt like when I broke my arm.’

‘It’s so annoying, not being able to do really simple things.’

Aramis looked across the yard. D’Artagnan was leaving with a couple of cadets. Porthos could not help noticing the look of mild confusion on Aramis’ face as he watched d’Artagnan go. When Aramis realised Porthos was watching him he smiled. 

‘I’ve remembered a couple of things-’

‘Really? Why didn’t you say?’

‘It’s just odd flashes, none of it makes any sense to me. I spoke to d’Artagnan yesterday. I know we’re together, although I don’t know how or how long or anything really…’

Porthos shook his head, ‘I’m sorry we’ve not just told you what you’ve lost but it’s-’

‘It’s alright, I’ve guessed that whatever it is will be difficult for me to hear and that you’re only thinking of me. D’Artagnan said that he will talk to me tomorrow or later today. I certainly think I’m strong enough to take whatever it is. It’s becoming more frustrating now that I’ve got a few bits back.’

‘I can’t imagine what it feels like…’

They sat in silence for a few moments before Aramis spoke again. The question, innocent on Aramis’ part made Porthos’ blood run cold as he knew he could not lie to his friend.

‘I’ve not seen Bardet around…’

Aramis saw the reaction that Porthos could not hide.

‘Oh...something happened to him. Was he killed? In action? You wouldn’t have reacted like that unless he had died.’

With a sigh, Porthos put the gun parts down and twisted slightly on the bench to look at his friend who was obviously concerned. Porthos knew what he had to say would upset Aramis, he also knew it would be difficult to tell him what had happened without revealing too many things that would confuse Aramis without the context to go with them. 

‘Marc was arrested for sodomy. He was executed a year ago.’

Aramis looked stunned. He blinked a few times and very obviously wavered. Porthos reached out to steady his friend, wrapping his hand around Aramis’ good arm.

‘Executed?’

‘I’m sorry...It’s one of the things we would have told you-’

‘One of the things? There’s more than that?’

Porthos realised what he had said and closed his eyes for a few seconds.

‘This is why we wanted to wait, you need to be told everything in order, you’re just going to get confused.’

It was too late, his friend was already worked up. Aramis was breathing quickly, the implications of what had happened to Bardet being played out in his mind. Porthos could almost see the thoughts as each one crossed his friend's mind. 

‘Was he tortured? Did he give anyone else up? Was I put in danger? ...was d’Artagnan?’

Porthos did not know how to respond, he felt helpless. Aramis looked away for a few seconds, Porthos could tell he was remembering something, he hated to think what it might be.

‘I was arrested...wasn’t I?’

MMMM

Aramis watched as Porthos nodded slowly in answer to his question. He had not remembered the incident but something had sparked in his mind when he heard about Marc being executed. 

Arrested for sodomy. 

But he was so careful. He made sure he did not do anything to draw attention to his sexual inclinations when he was in public. Only his closest friends knew the truth and he trusted all of them implicitly. 

‘I’m sorry,’ Porthos said again, ‘this isn’t how I, how we, wanted you to find out-’

‘It’s not your fault,’ Aramis replied quietly.

He knew his friend did not know what to say, did not know how to deal with his reaction. Poor Porthos had been pushed into revealing something horrible to Aramis. And Aramis was sure that there was more that he would have to be told. 

Aramis decided to remove himself from the situation, he picked up his stick.

‘I’d like to go to my rooms please,’ he said, looking at Porthos, ‘I just need to be alone for a bit. I’ll behave, I won’t strain my arm or anything. But please help me back there.’

Porthos nodded, ‘I understand and I ain’t going to prevent you from going home. Let me just put these back and I’ll walk over with you.’

Porthos regarded him for a few seconds before quickly gathering the scattered gun parts and cleaning materials and hurrying off to the armoury. Aramis remained sitting at the table alone. The yard was quiet apart from one of the stable boys brushing the mane of a horse on the other side. The sound of the brush the only thing Aramis could hear. He concentrated on the sound to try to freeze out the thoughts that kept threatening him. He knew if he considered his arrest or tried to remember what had happened he would not be able to contain his emotions. He did not want to be at the garrison if he were to break down. It had been hard enough to accept that one of his friends had been arrested and executed but to know that he had come close to being executed as well was shocking. Porthos had not said anything about him being condemned but if he had been arrested the possibility must have been there. 

He wondered what had caused him to be released?

Aramis knew he was at a point where he needed his friends to tell him what he had lost. He would insist. He had been happy to humour them up to a point, knowing that they were thinking of him, but he could not go on, now that he had some information. He needed to know the rest.

As Porthos emerged from the armoury, Aramis used his stick to push himself up to stand. He had not needed help to walk for several days but he knew that Porthos would not have let him walk to his rooms alone. Porthos would have physically stopped him if necessary and Aramis did not want to put his friend into that position. 

He walked towards the gate, Porthos fell into step with him.

‘We’ll come and see you later and tell you everything. I’m not sure if we did the right thing keeping stuff from you. We didn’t know what to do.’

Aramis nodded, ‘I understand. I really do, but I also need to know now. There are too many bits and pieces in my mind…’

They walked in silence. Aramis had to take his time and watch the uneven cobbles. Porthos glared at anyone who did not move for the two soldiers. Despite Aramis’ injuries most of the people of Paris still showed respect for both the soldiers, but there were the odd few, young men mainly, who thought they would try their luck at not moving aside.

As they neared his rooms Aramis had another thought, an unpleasant flash of memory. Something about being helped back to his rooms by a man he was not entirely happy to be with, and the man insisting on going up to his room with him. He pushed the thought away, his confused mind was starting to struggle with all the odds and ends of memories. He could not tie any together. He guessed that some of his now numerous memories went together but it was difficult to work out where everything fit in the puzzle of his mind.

Porthos had already taken the key to the door and was pushing it open for his friend. As they stepped in, the door to his landlady’s rooms opened, she peered out before gasping. 

‘Constance came around to tell me you’d been injured,’ she said, looking Aramis up and down, ‘so I knew not to expect you back for a while. Are you sure you should be back? You look awful.’

Aramis managed a smile to Madam Poulet, the frequently nosey landlady, who meant well, but could be annoying at times.

‘I am better than I was Madam,’ he said.

‘Good, will your young man be visiting you tonight? I might borrow him for a few minutes to move some boxes for me if you don’t mind.’

Aramis hesitated, the fact that Madam Poulet had referred to d’Artagnan as Aramis’ ‘young man’ was interesting. He guessed that meant he and the young Musketeer were quite close. Aramis covered his confusion with another smile.

‘I’m sure he or one of my other friends will be able to help you later.’

Porthos nodded, ‘we’re still keeping an eye on him,’ he said, ‘we’ll be around later.’

‘Good,’ said Madam Poulet, ‘I’ll make sure I’ve put everything in the boxes that need moving by this evening. Thank you.’

As Madam Poulet closed her door, Aramis turned to Porthos.

‘I’ll be fine from here, I can manage the stairs if I take it slowly…’

‘If you’re sure,’ replied Porthos who could tell Aramis needed some time alone, ‘we’ll come around later-’

‘I wondered if perhaps d’Artagnan could come alone? It’s not that I don’t want you and Athos to visit but I think it might be easier to hear what I’ve got to hear from one person...and I think he would be the best one.’

Porthos nodded, ‘you’re probably right. I’ll ask him.’

‘Tell him he doesn’t have to come alone if he doesn’t feel he can, I’d understand.’

‘He won’t have a problem helping you. Trust me,’ replied Porthos.

MMMM

After Porthos had left Aramis carefully climbed the stairs to his rooms. He took his time, not wanting to stumble or fall. Pushing his own door open and stepping into his rooms for the first time since he was attacked was odd. The rooms seemed strange to him. They were not as he remembered. The furniture was different, he wondered what had caused him to change the majority of his furniture? And there was a rather garish deep pink couch along one wall of his sitting room. The couch looked out of place, he thought it would look better in a large house or even the Palace.

A picture on the wall by the door caught his eye. A small posy of flowers had been pressed and framed. The frame looked expensive. A fleeting thought crossed his mind or an old lady putting the posy in a cup and leaving it by him as he lay in the infirmary at the garrison. Aramis had no idea who the lady was or why she would visit him when he was ill or injured?

The frustration of the odd memories was starting to take its toll on Aramis. He sighed, wondering how long he would have to wait for his explanations? Would d’Artagnan visit him alone? Or would the young man, his ‘young man’ apparently, want the support of Athos and Porthos?

Aramis eased out of his doublet, hanging it up behind the door. He hobbled around the two rooms for a few minutes looking around. He found many things he did not recognise and a few of his books seemed to have been replaced by new copies which made no sense to him. 

With a deflated feeling Aramis settled himself in one of his cushioned chairs by the fire. 

More jumbled thoughts came to him. He looked at the door to his rooms, there was a memory of him seeing it being kicked in by the Red Guard, several of the guardsmen had spilled into his rooms, taking him by surprise. But the memory did not link up with anything else. 

Another memory of sitting where he was, but feeling very confused and upset. Aramis wondered what had confused him that time?

All he could do was wait for d’Artagnan to visit him later. Aramis hoped he would get some answers. 

MMMM

Athos disarmed d’Artagnan with an ease that he was not happy about. The preoccupied young man had been giving away his moves for some time. Athos had started off simply lowering his standard to match his friend but when it became clear the d’Artagnan was not sparring to his usual level Athos simply twisted his sword and forced his opponent's weapon from his hand. 

D’Artagnan barely reacted to the loss, he looked at the sword lying on the ground a few feet away for a few seconds before looking back at Athos. 

‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I’m not concentrating, I should be better...I am better than that.’

‘This should not be affecting you,’ berated Athos. 

He disliked being firm with his friend, but d’Artagnan had to remain at his best. He was a Musketeer first and foremost. What was happening to them privately should not have been affecting their work. They all wanted Aramis back to his normal self, but they could not let his injury cause their own work to suffer. 

D’Artagnan nodded as he retrieved his sword, he rolled his shoulders and took a couple of breaths. Athos could see him mentally preparing himself, pushing the worries he had for his lover out of his mind. Athos was pleased to see his friend looking more focused when he turned towards him and raised his sword in salute, ready for another sparring session. 

Both men lowered their weapons as Porthos approached, a slightly guilty look on his face.

‘We need to tell ‘im what he’s lost,’ said Porthos. ‘He asked me where Bardet was. I had to tell him the truth - that he’d been executed and what he was executed for...then he remembered that he’d been arrested as well.’

Porthos paused for a few seconds.

‘It’s tearing him up. I can’t watch the confusion in him any more. He’s getting odd memories but it’s just leaving him more confused.’

Athos nodded, ‘where is he?’

‘He wanted to go home. I wasn’t going to stop him. He’s asked that you visit him.’

Porthos looked at d’Artagnan.

‘He says if you don’t want to go alone we could go with you, but I think he wants you to go on your own.’

‘Of course, I’ll go,’ replied d’Artagnan without hesitation. 

‘Go now,’ said Athos, ‘I will tell the Captain, he will understand.’

D’Artagnan nodded his thanks as he reached for his doublet and pulled it on.

‘I’ll tell him everything. He has a right to know.’

Athos stepped up to him, ‘you are doing the right thing. It must be difficult, but we owe him-’

‘I’m ready for whatever he wants after I’ve talked to him…’

Athos knew what his friend meant. Aramis might not be able to, or want to, continue his relationship with d’Artagnan. They had finally reached the point that could make or break their group. 

Athos wondered what the inseparables would look like after d’Artagnan had talked to Aramis?

MMMM

D’Artagnan did not rush to his lover's rooms. He needed time to contemplate what was going to happen. He needed time to consider how he would manage if Aramis was no longer his lover. They had been together for so many months that it was difficult for him to remember a time when they weren’t just best friends. Despite the manner of their relationships beginning they had developed it into what it was, a loving, caring relationship. At least d’Artagnan hoped it was still a relationship.

He felt sorry for Porthos who had seemed quite upset at having to tell Aramis a part of what he had lost but been unable to give him the context without going into a lot of detail. Aramis would not yet know how brave Marc had been to give up his life. D’Artagnan guessed that when Aramis learned what Marc had done he would be devastated afresh. Would d’Artagnan have to watch his lover going through all the heartache again?

And then there was the subject of the horrific assaults Aramis had suffered. 

The rapes, although horrible, had helped to shape Aramis into the man he now was. The awful things had changed Aramis. D’Artagnan did not know if it was for the worse or better. But without the memories, Aramis seemed different. Did all the things that happened to a person shape them? D’Artagnan knew he had changed a lot since they had been together. Constance often remarked on how different he was. A more rounded individual despite the oddness of his relationships. 

As he slipped into the quiet alleyway that led to the back door or the house where Aramis had his rooms, d’Artagnan wondered if he would still need his key after he had told Aramis everything. The thought of his lover no longer wanting to be with him bubbled at the front of his mind. But d’Artagnan had to quell the fear. What he was about to do was for Aramis. If his time with Aramis was about to end, d’Artagnan had to remember that what he was doing was for Aramis. 

The man he loved. 

Would Aramis still love him?


	7. Chapter 7

Aramis heard the stairs creak. He pushed himself up to stand, wincing, as his knee was still not fully healed. Most of his injuries, except his broken arm, were almost healed. The cut to his head had knitted together well and his bruises were almost gone. His injured ribs were still causing him to breathe carefully and not overexert himself but on the whole, he was as well as could be expected. His knee still hurt but with the aid of the walking stick, he was able to get about fairly well. His friends had gradually stopped their constant care, leaving him to his own devices for most of the time. He guessed that now he had returned to his rooms he would get visits but they would not mother him. None of them liked to be smothered with concern. Although the help and care were gratefully received, Aramis was glad to have more freedom now that he was on the mend. 

A floorboard creaked outside his door as he reached for the handle. He opened the door to find d’Artagnan, his hand raised, ready to knock. The younger man smiled, his smile was shy. Aramis realised he felt a little awkward, he had no idea what kind of relationship they had together. He wondered what they did together?

‘You came alone?’

D’Artagnan nodded, rocking slightly on his feet, the man looked uncertain. Unsure if he was welcome. Aramis stepped aside and indicated for d’Artagnan to enter the room. 

‘I expect you’re nervous,’ he said, ‘I am as well…so don’t worry about it.’

The corner of d’Artagnan’s lip turned up slightly in a smile. Aramis could not hide the confusion on his face. 

‘The first time we were...together,’ said d’Artagnan, ‘that’s exactly what you said when you opened the door. Although you also handed me a glass of wine.’

‘I wish I remembered it,’ said Aramis. ‘I’ve not asked how we came to be together. I’ll admit to having always been attracted to you-’

Again d’Artagnan smiled.

‘You might admit it now, but you didn’t admit it then…’

D’Artagnan trailed off, a darker look going across his face. 

‘Let me start at the beginning? If I just give you more bits and pieces you’ll end up even more confused.’

Aramis nodded, ‘tell me one thing though,’ he asked, ‘what possessed me to get that?’

Aramis pointed at the couch. He had spent some time trying to work out how he had come about having the dominating piece of furniture. 

D’Artagnan’s smile returned, Aramis liked the smile.

‘You...er...wanted somewhere that we could both be together in front of the fire. You...acquired it...from the palace. You paid a footman to help you carry it here.’

D’Artagnan looked at the couch for a few seconds. Aramis wondered what he was thinking.

‘I wasn’t sure to start with,’ continued d'Artagnan, ‘but it was a good acquisition.’

Aramis felt his cheeks flush at the implication, he looked away a second too late.

‘Sorry,’ said d’Artagnan, ‘this must be so odd for you. You only remember me as a friend, not a lover. This last couple of weeks has been horrible for me, but I cannot imagine how confusing it must have been for you.’

‘It still is confusing.’

D’Artagnan smiled, ‘shall we?’

They moved to the chairs by the fire, d’Artagnan steadied him as he sat down. The move instinctive Aramis realised.

The looked at each other for a few seconds.

‘I’ve had a couple of memories return since I’ve been here,’ said Aramis. ‘I remember the door being kicked in by the Red Guard...I’m guessing when I was arrested?’

D’Artagnan nodded, the dark look had returned to his face. Aramis recognised it as worry for him. 

‘The other memory is of me sitting here but I was confused and scared I think, that one’s quite hazy…’

‘I think I know what that would be, I’ll explain when we get to it.’

Aramis wondered again how much there was that he had lost. He nodded as d’Artagnan took a moment to compose himself, readying himself to tell Aramis what he had forgotten.

‘The way we started our relationship was...unconventional...it stems from a very unpleasant event that happened to us whilst we were on a mission…’

As d’Artagnan described them both being taken captive by a sadistic man and his brutish thugs Aramis could not help the odd shocked look. The way they had been treated was abhorrent. But the way d’Artagnan described him helping him before he was raped, preparing the young man to be violated left him flushed with embarrassment again. D’Artagnan noticed. 

‘At the time I was terrified. Nothing even vaguely similar had happened to me before then. Without you doing that for me I would have been injured. You saved me from that. It was a difficult thing for you to do, I remember you apologising that you did not have the time to do it properly…’

‘And then I let the leader rape me?’ asked Aramis.

‘He threatened further harm would come to me if you didn’t submit to him. You let it happen to protect me.’

Aramis nodded slowly, he was sure he did not want to remember the incident. He knew that soldiers were at risk of sexual assaults when they were taken captive, but had never expected it to happen to him. He was glad he had been there to help d’Artagnan though. 

‘I don’t see how we came to be in a relationship based on such a horrific experience.’

D’Artagnan smiled, ‘that’s just it though. It was the shared experience that brought us together - to start with - not now though.’

D’Artagnan had been quick to point out that their relationship must have moved on. The young man went on to tell Aramis how they had both struggled to put the attack behind them and that Constance had suggested d’Artagnan ask to sleep with Aramis to chase away the negative connotations of sex. 

‘Constance?’

D’Artagnan nodded, ‘I know. She has no problem with us being together.’

Aramis stared off into the distance for a few seconds trying to imagine how the relationship worked. D’Artagnan was both sleeping with a married woman, a crime in itself and sleeping with another man, a crime punishable by death. He guessed his lover had learned to be discreet very quickly.

‘Initially, I just wanted to sate my urge to sleep with a man...well you, but then you admitted that you liked me as well and we went on from there.’

‘What made me admit that I like you?’

D’Artagnan’s expression darkened once again, ‘Damon,’ he said simply.

Aramis thought for a moment. He knew the Red Guardsman had been a bit annoyed when he had stopped their occasional liaisons. The man had become violent and Aramis knew he was better off away from the man. Aramis could not work out how Damon had helped him to admit to d’Artagnan that he liked him.

When d’Artagnan explained that Damon started to blackmail Aramis he was shocked afresh. The vile man was seeking sexual favours from him in order to stop him telling Richelieu about d’Artagnan seeking the company of other men. As d’Artagnan quietly explained what had happened when they managed to frame the man for theft, Aramis had a flash of memory. He blinked a few times. He remembered his former lover beating him and forcing him on to his bed and fucking him. Raping him. 

‘I’m sorry,’ d’Artagnan said, ‘I had to let it happen. If I’d intervened, he would have known we were framing him and he would have turned us in.’

Aramis stared at d’Artagnan who looked very contrite as he explained what had happened. The young man had witnessed the Red Guardsman using him and been unable to do anything to stop it from happening. Aramis wanted to embrace d’Artagnan to tell him that he understood, but he found he could not move at that moment.

‘I remember it,’ Aramis said, ‘I remember slipping the book we used to frame him into his pocket before he hit me and forced me onto his bed. I remember him telling me to relax and enjoy it...I remember you...afterwards, helping me.’

D’Artagnan had tears in his eyes, ‘I’m not sure if we should be pleased that you’ve remembered something in detail. Not when it was that.’

Aramis reached out his hand. D’Artagnan pulled his chair closer to Aramis and took the offered hand, rubbing his thumb across Aramis’ palm. It felt very right to Aramis, the touch of the younger man felt welcome.

‘I’d like some wine,’ said Aramis after a few seconds. 

D’Artagnan nodded as he rose and crossed to the shelf above the small table and busied himself collecting a bottle and two glasses. He knew where everything was. Aramis suspected d’Artagnan was with him most of the time, he seemed more and more at ease in the rooms.

‘Please tell me there are some pleasant or lighter things I’ve forgotten as well?’

D’Artagnan managed a smile as he poured.

‘How about the time Porthos knocked you out because he got aroused when you were teaching him how to kiss a woman?’

MMMM

D’Artagnan was pleased to see the smile and occasional chuckle from his lover as he recounted the incident with Porthos. It felt good to lighten the mood, even if there was still further violent things to relate. 

They sipped at the wine for a few minutes, d’Artagnan wanted to take his time and not overload his lover with the memories all at once. Aramis had been quite tense when he had first arrived but now that they were talking easily he had relaxed. D’Artagnan hoped that Aramis would continue to remember things when his memory was jogged, he just wished most of the memories were not as horrific as they were. 

As he started to recount the reason for some of the scars on Aramis’ back the mood sobered again. Aramis completely understood the upset he had caused by his actions, his insubordination could have caused them all to be killed, he was lucky to have got away with only being whipped by his captors that time. As the incident was recounted d’Artagnan could tell Aramis had remembered some of it on his own. D’Artagnan was particularly pleased when Aramis admitted that he had fully remembered their encounter in the stables when Aramis was carrying out his punishment after the incident. Aramis’ his cheeks reddening, said that d’Artagnan had left him speechless. 

The more d’Artagnan told Aramis the more it was obvious he was remembering on his own. Aramis managed to finish off some of the memories before d’Artagnan could. 

‘I’d not told anyone about my son,’ he said as the memories of the time d’Artagnan had coerced Aramis to talk about previous lovers came up. ‘I should probably write to Lady Dalton, I can’t remember when I last did…’

Aramis stopped talking when he saw d’Artagnan smiling at him.

‘What?’

‘Your son came to see you.’

‘What?!’

‘It’s a little out of sequence but yes, he managed to become a cadet and was here for several months before we realised. You and he write quite frequently. I think you might find reading his letters helps to bring back some of your memories.’

Aramis looked stunned, ‘he was here?’

‘None of us knew. He eventually had to reveal himself, you and he had a couple of weeks together before he went back to England.’

Aramis looked off into the distance for a few seconds before his brow furrowed. 

‘There’s something with him, I remember him helping us. I think I’d killed someone that I shouldn’t have done?’

D’Artagnan nodded, ‘as I said we’ve gone a bit out of sequence-’

‘Is this the arrest. You’ve not mentioned it yet…’

D’Artagnan nodded again. Of all the horrible things he was having to tell his lover the arrest and incarceration in the Chatelet was the one he was dreading the most. 

Of course, d’Artagnan could only relate back to Aramis what the man had told him during his convalescence. Aramis had asked Treville to send him away so that he was safe. It had been the most taxing few days of his life. 

D’Artagnan struggled to tell his lover what had happened to him. He could not stop the tears from falling. As he reached the part of the retelling where he had to describe how Marc had knocked him out in order to make his way to the Chatelet he faltered completely. No further words would come from his mouth, he looked down.

It was not until Aramis took his hand that d’Artagnan looked up again. Aramis was crying as well, his eyes haunted as he spoke two words. 

‘I remember.’

D’Artagnan sniffed, ‘I am so sorry you went through that to keep me safe…’

Aramis reached up with his left hand and stroked d’Artagnan’s cheek, ‘what did you expect me to do? I couldn’t let them come for you...and if I had given you up they would have killed me as well anyway, it made no sense to put us both in danger.’

Aramis looked away for a few seconds. 

‘When Porthos told me that Marc had been executed and I had the flash of my own arrest I did not envision it being quite so awful. I’ve found scars on my body that I didn’t recollect, but they were from then.’

‘Can you remember everything now?’ asked d’Artagnan tentatively.

Aramis shook his head, ‘I don’t think so. There’s something else about you. Something that has affected us both deeply, but the memory won’t come. Has something happened that we’re no longer together? I know you showed concern when I first came around but that could have just been because we had been in a relationship?’

D'Artagnan had hoped he would not have to relate the most recent incident, but it seemed he was going to have to go through it with his lover.

‘We are still together,’ he said, knowing Aramis would appreciate the reassurance. ‘But yes, something else horrible happened, to us both, a few weeks ago. We’re not really over it...I think it might have been the reason you went off on your own and got beaten up.’

Aramis nodded, he took a few sips of wine, it was obvious to d’Artagnan that Aramis wanted to give him a chance to compose himself. D’Artagnan could not help smiling.

Aramis looked confused.

‘You are always so thoughtful of others. You always want to be sure everyone else is alright before you look after yourself.’

Aramis nodded with a smile of his own, ‘it’s a fault,’ he said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. ‘Tell me another pleasant memory. Tell me something about a time we’ve spent together.’

‘Thank you,’ d’Artagnan said, he was finding it all quite draining and could tell Aramis was a little overwhelmed. ‘How about the time we visited the lake? It was just the two of us. We spent the time together, talking, making love. It was amazing.’

MMMM

As d’Artagnan told him about the visit they had made to the hidden lake, Aramis again felt the now familiar resurgence of the actual memory. The feeling had been very confusing the first couple of times, a jolt to his mind as the memory fell back into place, filling a gap he had not been aware of. The more his lover talked the more he remembered. 

His lover. 

D’Artagnan was his lover. More than that he was the man that Aramis loved. They were not simply sleeping together which was what a lot of his previous encounters had been. They were, from the sounds of things, equal partners. Aramis appeared to have taught d’Artagnan everything. The way d’Artagnan described their times together it was obvious they both did the same activities with each other. 

He had found himself very shocked as d'Artagnan had slowly told him about the time that one of his former lovers, Lestrange, had come back into his life. The man had drugged him and used him. D'artagnan had gently explained that Aramis had been abused, whilst drugged, by the man and that he had not known it at the time, remembering through dreams a few weeks later. 

Knowing that the men responsible for the attacks on him were all dead was a comfort. 

As d’Artagnan finished telling him about their run-in with some slave traders, Aramis sat back in his chair shaking his head.

‘I can’t believe how much I’d lost…’

D’Artagnan looked down for a few seconds before looking back up, Aramis could tell he was trying not to cry, he failed. 

‘You lost all of the things we did together. The bad and the good. You forgot me.’

Aramis opened his mouth to speak but could not. His lover, tears spilling from his eyes, just looked at him. His expression was in no way accusatory but filled with sorrow. Aramis reached out and took d’Artagnan’s hand again. 

‘I don’t understand why though? We seem to have a relationship that works. It’s obvious we trust one another. I remember some of our arguments but we managed to get passed everything that got in our way...what?’

Aramis had noticed that d’Artagnan had looked away again.

‘We haven’t got passed the most recent...incident.’

‘I’ve still not remembered something?’

D’Artagnan shook his head. 

Aramis was annoyed with himself for not realising he was still missing the last few weeks of his memories. Of course, the reason he had lost the memories would be because of something that happened recently. Some trauma had occurred that his mind had needed to expunge. Aramis hated to think about what it was.

‘Tell me,’ he said simply. ‘I need to know.’

‘I’ll confess,’ said d’Artagnan after a pause, ‘I had been worried you wouldn’t want to be with me when I’d helped you remember...and this is the thing that worries me the most…’

‘Tell me. Get it over with. I cannot imagine what could cause you to think that I would even consider not wanting to be with you…’

D’Artagnan took a breath, he shifted back in his chair, breaking the contact they had. Aramis was worried what the next few minutes would bring.


	8. Chapter 8

Aramis wanted to tell d’Artagnan that he did not need to know, did not need his lover to tell him. The distress it was causing the younger man was obvious in his eyes. The fact that he had moved away was telling. Did d’Artagnan not want the contact any longer or did d’Artagnan think that he would not want the contact? Aramis wished he did not need to know.

But whatever had happened to them both had caused a conflict between them that Aramis did not like. Now that most of the memories were in place he could not believe there could be anything that could happen that could drive them apart. Whatever it was appeared to also be the reason he had gone off on his own and put himself in danger. 

‘We were walking back to your rooms a few weeks ago. It was a normal night. We were distracted by a couple of men having an argument and then we were grabbed. The distraction was so that we could be grabbed without fighting back. We were taken to a cellar. You were chained to the wall. The man who took us, a wealthy man, told me that if I didn’t do as he asked you would be hurt.’

‘What did he want you to do?’

‘He was a strange man. Odd. He seemed to get sexually aroused by pain. He had me whip him and scold him with a hot poker...I was hesitant with the whip so one of his men hit you a couple of times.’

Aramis could tell d’Artagnan felt guilty for the harm he had indirectly caused to him.

‘Then he wanted me to fuck him.’

The simple statement shocked Aramis. He blinked a few times. He waited for the memory to come, but it did not. Throughout the evening when d’Artagnan had hit key points in his retelling of the things Aramis had lost, it had been triggering the memory to come back to him. Aramis was surprised the revelation had not caused the last memory to drop into place. He wondered why the memory was not appearing?

‘He wanted me to fuck him, with no preparation...as he fucked you.’

D’Artagnan had broken eye contact as he spoke. Aramis did not say anything. He was not sure he would be able to. 

The memory still did not come to him.

‘I was...reluctant. He told me that if I didn’t do as he said he would have you killed, slowly and painfully. I’m sorry but I was still reluctant. You had to tell me to do it in the end. You had been restrained and blindfolded, you could not do anything to help yourself and you told me to do it…’

D’Artagnan paused again for a few seconds. He wiped his eyes with his palm before looking up. Aramis could tell how difficult it was for him to relate what had happened. 

‘He gave me something to help me...get hard and then he indicated for me to stand behind him as he stood behind you...then he...stepped aside.’

Aramis had worked it out. He had not remembered it, but he worked it out.

‘You had no choice, did you?’ he said quietly.

D’Artagnan shook his head. He looked so upset, so alone and so young at that moment. 

Over the few hours they had been talking Aramis had seen d’Artagnan go from a naive young man to a skilled lover in his mind. He had watched his lover grow from just being a man he slept with, to being the only man he ever wanted to be with. Aramis had experienced their entire relationship in a matter of hours. But now, now that the final piece of the puzzle was being put into place d’Artagnan seemed to have regressed. 

‘Once I’d...raped you,’ said d’Artagnan, still not making eye contact as he spoke, ‘the man left, he left us a bag of money. I untied you but I didn’t tell you that it had been me that raped you. I let you think it had been him. But I couldn’t be with you. You were injured and in pain and I walked away from you for a few minutes. When I’d composed myself I helped you back to your rooms and just left you there. I couldn’t be with you, all I could think about was what I had done to you-’

‘What you had no choice in,’ Aramis said. ‘He would have killed us both, I’m sure of that.’

‘He would have done,’ continued d’Artagnan who finally managed to look at him, ‘I actually thought for a fleeting second that might be the better option. To let him kill you.’

‘But only for a moment. You saw the sense that it was better for you to hurt me and keep us both alive. I can’t imagine what that would have been like for you. Why didn’t you tell me straight away?’

‘I just felt so guilty.’

Aramis leaned forward in his chair, catching d’Artagnan’s hand, worried in case the man pulled away from him. He did not. 

‘You did what you had to do, to keep us alive. When I was in the Chatelet I had to do what I did to keep you safe-’

‘But you didn’t have to hurt me to do that.’

Aramis saw d’Artagnan’s point. His lover had been put in an impossible situation. He could understand how awful it must have been for him. 

‘We’ve talked, we’ve worked it through now,’ continued d’Artagnan. ‘But I was struggling to return to how our relationship was for a while. And then you admitted that you were scared of the time I did recover and perhaps wanted to fuck you again,’ d’Artagnan smiled ruefully, ‘I hated what I had done, and you were worrying you would push me away when I recovered…’

Aramis nodded, ‘have we managed to have sex since then?’

‘Yes, but you’re always the one having sex with me. We’re taking it slowly...you haven’t regained this memory, have you?’

Aramis shook his head, ‘everything else you’ve told me has come back to me as you spoke, but I have no recollection still of this. I’m sorry.’

MMMM

D’Artagnan smiled and shifted forward in his chair again, ‘don’t be sorry. I’m thrilled that you’ve got the other memories back, the good and the bad.’

‘Was it this that caused me to go off on my own?’

The simple question, the one that they all wanted the answer to probably could not be answered. Unless Aramis did remember what had happened immediately before his assault they would not know what his motivation was for going alone. 

‘Let me fill you in on the last couple of weeks,’ suggested d’Artagnan, ‘there’s nothing too horrific left to tell, you don’t need to worry. But maybe it will help you to remember why you went alone.’

Aramis nodded, he did not release his grasp on d'Artagnan’s hand. The young Musketeer smiled.

‘We went back to the Chatelet. It was the first time you’d been there since you were arrested. You rescued a young lad, Luc, he’d been arrested for sodomy, but they hadn’t got as far as interrogating him…’

D’Artagnan could see that the spark of memory was again returning to him as their most recent mission was recounted to him. As Aramis remembered their visit to Louis-Charles it was clear he was feeling a little overwhelmed again. D’Artagnan wondered if his lover was ready for a little bit more contact than simply holding hands. He glanced at the couch, when he looked back Aramis was smiling. 

‘We’d be more comfortable,’ Aramis said as he allowed d’Artagnan to help him up.

After settling his lover on the couch d’Artagnan collected the bottle of wine and the glasses. Aramis had managed to swing his legs up and leaned back, d’Artagnan took his cue and stretched out next to him slipping his arm around his lover’s shoulders. Aramis settled himself against him. D’Artagnan felt the most content he had since Aramis had been injured.

They sipped the wine for a little longer before Aramis spoke again.

‘I’m sorry I went on my own on that mission. I think I was just frustrated that we’d been hurt, both of us, and that it was affecting us both. It was stupid. I still can’t remember what I did to get caught and beaten. Perhaps that won’t come back? But I can guess why I did it.’

‘I forgive you,’ said d’Artagnan, ‘the Captain was fuming. I’m not sure if he will still want to give out one of his inventive punishments once you're fully recovered.’

‘I deserve it,’ replied Aramis, ‘if I get stuck in the stables again, whilst it’s still warm...you could visit me again?’

D’Artagnan knew what his lover was inferring, their illicit assignation in the stable whilst Aramis was carrying out a previous punishment had been quite intense.

D’Artagnan hesitated before he replied, ‘I’d like nothing more, but I’m still not sure if I can do, things to you.’

He noticed that Aramis was frowning.

‘It’s alright,’ Aramis said, ‘I’ve still got to get over it as well remember?’

D’Artagnan smiled, he leaned into Aramis and kissed him, his lover did not hesitate in kissing him back. D’Artagnan had wondered if the kiss would feel like their first kiss, but it did not. The kiss was filled with passion and love. D’Artagnan could not help smiling.

As they broke off the kiss Aramis looked at him, d’Artagnan could tell he wanted to ask him something. 

‘Will you stay? You don’t have to but I’m still making sense of some of the memories. It’s been a lot to take in so suddenly...but I’m glad I’ve got them back.’

Aramis had looked a little worried. D’Artagnan realised he must have looked concerned.

‘Of course, I’ll stay,’ he said, ‘we were unsure what to do when we realised you’d forgotten our relationship. I was dreading telling you everything...if you hadn’t got the memories back and had simply heard about our relationship I was worried you wouldn’t want to continue…’

‘Then I would have been a fool,’ said Aramis firmly, taking d’Artagnan’s hand and kissing his fingers, keeping firmly hold of him. ‘I still have no recollection of you being forced to fuck me.’

D’Artagnan nodded, ‘perhaps you won’t get that one back.’

‘I have no recollection of the fear I have. It’s odd. Knowing it happened, but feeling as though I wasn’t there. I wonder if my lack of memory will make it easier when you’ve recovered, or if it will be more difficult…’

‘I guess we will have to cross that bridge when we reach it. But I know I’m not ready yet. I’m happy as we are...or were…’

‘Are,’ said Aramis firmly, ‘I’ve remembered most of what’s happened. Obviously, I’m a bit concerned that the last missing memory will come back to me at an inopportune moment. I just hope that you will be with me if it comes back. I know you’ll help me.’

D’Artagnan smiled and nodded, ‘we can continue to take it slowly. We know what our issues are, even if you only know about yours because I’ve told you about it.’

‘Taking it slowly,’ replied his lover before leaning in for another kiss. 

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and comments. Gratefully received as always. :-)  
> As Aramis has a broken arm to recover from, there won't be any swashbuckling stuff in the next story I have planned, it will be something of an indulgence for myself and explore his relationship with one of my original characters. (D'Art will be in it as well - don't worry). I hope that won't put you off.


End file.
